


The Bone Garden || Hannibal AU

by MurderDaddies (BiersacksKitten)



Series: Murderous Lovers [1]
Category: Fannibal, Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: AHS, Blood, Blood and Gore, BoyxBoy, Dark, Death, F/F, F/M, Fanfic, Fanfiction, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Gore, Hannibal - Freeform, Horror, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Morbid, Multi, Murder, Murder Husbands, Paranormal, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Serial Killer, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, american horror story - Freeform, bxb - Freeform, cannibal, girlxgirl, gory, gxg, killer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiersacksKitten/pseuds/MurderDaddies
Summary: A serial killer is building a skin-crawling garden made of human bones intertwined with rare and beautiful flowers and plants.Norman Bates is Dr. Lecter's patient in a desperate attempt to regain his sanity.Hannibal Lecter is in love with Will Graham. Sure Hannibal did once betray Will's trust and frame him for multiple murders. Sure Will tried to have Hannibal killed. But what relationship is perfect.Will Graham is teetering between his feelings for Hannibal, which he refuses to admit to himself, and his devotion for what he believes in, which includes bringing Hannibal to justice.Willow-Rose, a girl haunted by her past, is in love with Hannibal. And Will. And she's a serial killer known as The Rosary killer.Another serial killer, The Puppetmaster, is obsessed with Willow-Rose. And is sure to make his intentions to her clear when he leaves his gory 'love notes' to Rose for all the world to see.Tate Langdon didn't die in the 'Murder House' he tries to run from his demons and ends up in hell.Vanessa Ives has supernatural powers and a dark past filled with deadly secrets.The perfect players for a twisted and grisly game of killer vs killer.





	The Bone Garden || Hannibal AU

~~~⊰♥⊱~~~

She removes the eyes carefully and coldly, every fiber of the young woman screams callousness, her hands never tremble and her eyes never waver. She hums softly as she tends to the task before her. The paralytic does its work, she not only wants him to die, she wants him to suffer. He can't move nor scream, but he could feel everything. Every single last thing she was doing to him.

He's going to die and he knows it. He wants to fight back, but he can't. He is powerless, utterly terrifying for him, utterly exciting for her. The fact that he can't resist or fight is part of what makes this beautiful to her.

He never saw her coming. He didn't see the syringe in her hand until it was too late, until he couldn't stop the needle from piercing his neck. The element of surprise always works to her advantage, she isn't strong, but she is cunning.

People say the thrill is in the hunt, but she would say they were wrong because almost every measure of thrill she ever felt came from the kill, not the hunt.

After placing the man's eyes in a small glass with roses and thorns painted on the outside, she grabs him on either side of his face, she forces him to look up at the ceiling, and taking both hands, yanks his mouth open.

She holds the Rosary tightly. A large black cross with engraved details on the surface, the black chain has crimson red glass beads, and the cross itself has a blade on the bottom. The blade drips with blood. She holds it carefully, with a measure of respect before sliding the blade across one of his wrists in a single precise glide.

Blood begins to run from the gash left behind by the blade, holding his hand over a cup she let the blood run in. She repeats her actions with the other wrist, she places this hand over a cup too.

She returns her attention to his mouth, picking up her bag she pulls out a bouquet of a dozen roses. The roses are a rich crimson red, every petal of the flowers are as delicate as they are beautiful, the forest green leaves and stem makes the red seem even bolder. Grabbing the first rose, she's sure to handle it carefully as not to prick herself on the large sharp thorns that lace the stem.

She aligns it with the man's mouth and throat before pushing it in. It goes down his throat easily. The first one always does. Most of the first ones do, it's right around eight before things start getting messy. What with the problem of trying not to tangle the stems in one another and the blood puddle that forms from the thorns scratching their throats making it hard to see.

For all the brutality and sheer horror, in the end, it's a lack of oxygen that kills them. The roses not only block their airways, which on it's on would be enough, but they are also drowning in their own blood as more and more of it collects in their throats.

With a grunt of annoyance, she wipes the perspiration from her forehead and places the now empty bouquet packing back into her bad. Moving the two cups of blood out from under his arms, she places lids on them and sits them into her bag as well.

Brushing back her red hair, she pushes her tongue slightly through her lips in deep thought. Grabbing the Rosary, she swings it around by its chain before taking a harsh grip on the metal cross and running the cold blade across her victim's throat.

Some blood splattered out but not a lot considering his other wounds. Taking a step back she admired her work with a glimmer in her dark green eyes. Using a small piece of red cloth from her bag she gave the Rosary a quick cleaning, rubbing the metal surface clean, or at least somewhat cleaner than it was.

Holding the Rosary in one hand and ran her fingers up the chain with the other, she toyed with one of the glass beads, her long black nails scraping the surface lightly as she spun it between her fingers.

Carefully, ritually, she puts the Rosary around the dead man's neck. After taking a moment to adjust the Rosary to where the cross lies squarely against his blood covered chest.

It was quiet. The kind of quiet that fills a room right before you drift asleep. Her heart raced, just like every time before, she felt truly alive  

A conceited smile fills her full red lips before whispering, "Perfect," a giddiness lining her tone.

~~~⊰♥⊱~~~

"The nightmares are waning. I suppose I should be grateful for that at least, but...

Hannibal raised an eyebrow slightly, his eyes shifting slightly from the right of her to looking directly at her, "But?"

"I'm dissatisfied," she taps her hand on the surface of the chair's arm repetitiously and sighs. "I don't want to have some good nights, I want to be able to go to sleep knowing that it's going to be a good night, not having to fear that it's not."

She let's out a deep sigh and waves her hand to say she no longer wishes to talk about it.

"Have you ever been in love, Dr. Lecter?" She says changing the subject rather abruptly. She brushes a few stray strains of her red hair out of her face and behind her ear as she spoke. She speaks with a soft, careful tone, choosing her words carefully as she always does during her sessions.

"Why do you ask, Rose?"

"I've never felt love. Whether it be romantic or not. I wondered if you could tell me what it felt like. To love or to be loved. It must be nice to experience love at least once."

"Willow...

"Please call me Rose." Hannibal nods at her request and she continues, "My father," she says the word with heavy resentment, "Wanted me to be called Willow, my mother wanted Rose, I prefer Rose."

"You harbor some ill feelings toward your father?"

"Oh, I hate him," she hisses through her teeth, her upper lip slightly curled. "He's dead, has been for years, and I still hate him. And I'll go right on hating him until the day I die." She pursues her lips and makes a clicking noise with her tongue against the back of her teeth. It was clear she doesn't like her father and dislikes talking about him just as much. "Do we have to talk about him," she asks in an even, measured tone as she plays with a small wisp of her crimson hair between her fingers.

"We can talk and not talk about whatever you like," Hannibal replies, his hands resting on his lap, fingers interlocked, he listens to her every word intently.

She glances out the window, "I hate the daytime you know? I feel like I'm being forced to awkwardly exist in it, but I don't fit in it. I feel like I would die if I were forced to stay in it for too long. Like a fish forced out of the water and onto dry land." She pauses for a brief moment, "I like the dark, it's safe, comforting." She looks down at her black nails, then toward the ceiling, a light sparkle in her eyes "I sometimes go outside late out night just so I can breathe the night air in, let it fill my lungs, sit in the darkness so I can feel like I become one with it."

The corners of her red lipstick stained lips raise in a faint smile, her nearly perfect white teeth showing slightly between her open lips.

It wasn't uncommon for her to shift from one subject to another during her sessions, she did it often and flawlessly. A sort of defense mechanism she had developed some years ago. Avoid talking about the same topic for too long and you don't have to worry about uncomfortable questions.

"Sometimes I feel like a monster shoved into a human's skin. And what really scares me about it is that I know I'm right. That below my flesh and serene appearance is a vile monster hiding there, in the darkness, just waiting to burst out."

Rose watches Hannibal carefully, intently. As she always does. Something about him piqued her interest in him. As to why he interest her; She doesn't have an answer.

"Are you still having dreams where you see yourself as The Rosary Killer?"

She takes a breath, her body tenses slightly and she cocks her head to the side a little, "Yes."

"And how do you feel when you're in these dreams. How does it feel to be The Rosary Killer?"

She looks into Hannibal's eyes, "I feel powerful, unstoppable. I feel righteous. I feel justified in knowing I killed someone who didn't deserve to live. In taking away a life they shouldn't have had in the first place." Rose sits forward, a fire in her eyes had flared up as she spoke, now they go dim as she sits back and continues, "Now, I am well aware I'm not The Rosary Killer. But for some odd reason I've always been drawn to anything having to do with the Rosary Killer, I fixate on them, and now I can't stop the nightmares."

Hannibal looks at the floor next to her chair then shifts his eyes to her's, he blinks. Rose swallows and eyes Hannibal closely wondering what he thought. His usually calm demeanor is all that shows, but he is internally smiling at the words that left Rose's lips.

~~~⊰♥⊱~~~

 _Word Count || 1627_  
_Character Count || 8649_  
_Reading Level || 9th -10th grade_

~~~⊰♥⊱~~~

_A/N: I hope you like it so far. This story is something I put together while watching Hannibal for the second time._


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